Fragility
by EpitomeOfBoredom
Summary: Hashirama was insecure and Madara was too blind too see. Because Madara was too unassuming, and Hashirama drowned in his own fragility. HashiMada. Reviews are very much appreciated.Rated M just to be safe. Perhaps there would be slight domestic abuse in the future chapter/s.
1. Chapter 1

This is the first time I have written such long ( by my standard at least) fan fiction. Please bear with me if there're inconsistencies. All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.

...

It was to be expected.

He was of the Senju, son of Butsuma.

It was a given that he would join the battles once he was old enough to hold a kunai. Initially he was scared, after all it was not the same as playing battles with his brothers.

No.

One single mistake, and he would join his dead relatives.

He recalled how terrified he had been, when he first killed a person.

The boy could not have been much older than he was. His widening eyes, the blood which spluttered from his lips, the enraged howl which may had been from his parents, Hashirama remembered them too well.

It was revolting. It was absolutely nauseating.

He vomited all that he ate the previous day. Surprisingly, he was not reprimanded for his display of weakness. The sympathising look in Butsuma's eyes felt so foreign, the man usually was very particular about toughening up.

Perhaps, he, Butsuma , as well, was initially similar.

Despite that, after more than a few years of prolonged wars, sometimes with the Uchiha, other times with other clans whose names he had ceased to remember, Hashirama had long forgotten fear and terror of battlefields, fighting to survive, surviving to fight, day to day, just like one would have his three meals per day. People were no longer people, only enemies and allies.

He lost count of how many lives fell by his blade. No, rather, he refused to count. Because with each slash, he lost a part of himself. With each stab, he lost more faith in the world.

But Hashirama would remember the scorching heat that was the battle, the heavy air that dripped with death, the pounding heart which was fuelled by adrenaline, and the brilliant eyes with the most beautiful shade of red.

" _The only way is for enemies to expose their guts and drink like brothers."_

How could a young boy, probably even younger than Hashirama himself, perhaps an Uchiha, supposedly his arch nemesis, understood his visions more than his own clansmen, his own brothers, his own father?

Truly he was a gift from the heavens. And Hashirama allowed his heart to be stolen the moment his eyes witnessed the transition in colour of the dark midnight eyes to vermillion.

But their relationship was not all rainbows and butterflies like most others. After all, they were enemies on battlefields. Long before they learnt to exchange kisses, they had been trading life threatening blows. Had not it been for their superior skills, they may had perished in the carnage orchestrated by hatred.

Lost was his childhood friend, in his presence was a blood thirsty adversary, with eyes blazing crimson, with fingers curled around the hilt of his kusarigama, with a feral war cry torn out of him. He hated that he had to respond with the same ferocity, for his life would had been forfeited had he hesitated even just for a moment. He loathed the reality that forced him to continuously endanger the life of a person who meant so much to him.

Hashirama loved him. Loved him with all his being. Loved his passion, loved his bloodlust, loved his anger, loved his frustrations, but most of all, he loved his concealed gentleness.

And his handsome features did not hurt either.

Hashirama would regard the day they finally lain down their weapons, opting for peace, as the day he truly believed that God was watching him, for He blessed Hashirama with the chance to be with his beloved, whom for his heart ached each time each time he went up against amidst the chaos. He truly believed that the heavens had finally rewarded him for all his kindness and humility the moment he shook hands with Uchiha Madara, validating their treaty.

It was irrelevant to him, if the other shared his sentiment or not.

"So Madara?"

It was during the celebration that followed. He was feeling a little bit more tipsy than he should had, and the overflowing euphoria did not help either.

"Hn?" He could see that the Uchiha patriarch was not as sober as he would had everybody to think, with the slight reddening of his pale cheeks.

"Are we cool now?"

"Huh?"

"Us? Are we cool now?"

Madara shrugged. He took another drink from his cup.

It was spring. Petals of sakura were finding themselves trapped in the dark mane. Several of them fell into his sake cup. Hashirama noted as he observed a small smile forming on the usually stern face.

However being amicable was one matter, being intimate was another, and thus the moment all the fundamental aspects of their newly formed village, i.e the construction of residences, liaising with the daimyo, electing the Hokage etc were settled, Hashirama embarked on an 'odyssey' to conquer Madara.

Not.

In all honesty, Hashirama was clueless about courting ladies, much less a man almost equally powerful as he was. It did not help that Madara was oblivious to all his subtle or not so subtle hints. It further aggravated the situation when almost everybody in the Uchiha and Senju alike were against the two of them engaging in a non platonic relationship, prompting backs to be shown when Hashirama tried to ask for advice. Even Tobirama, especially _Tobirama_ , his brother who he thought would be emphatic with his situation was strongly in opposition to the idea.

Thus Hashirama was left to his own.

His first attempt was to present Madara with bouquets of flowers everyday. However as he watched from his hiding spot Madara breathing flames to burn the roses on the third consecutive day he placed them on Madara's door step, he decided that it was enough with the approach.

His mother was a great cook, and he fondly recalled how his father would smile each time she took the time from her busy kunoichi life to make his favourite food. Hashirama hired the best chef he could find to teach him to make the most delicious inarizushi for Madara. He had hoped to impress the Uchiha with his cooking skills. He even added some other 'special ingredients' to produce the 'perfect inarizushi'. To his disappointment, Madara wolfed down all the inarizushi after a curt 'thank you' without sparing him another glance.

Giving up was never one of Hashirama's strengths, so instead he began to look for other things which might interest Madara in him. No such luck. Rather, after almost three months of his 'courting', he was greeted by an infuriated Madara in his office.

"I don't know if this is your idea of harassing me, Senju, but I am at my limit!"

He was no stranger to Madara's piercing gaze, but instead of igniting his spirit for a good fight, he found himself fantasising how nice it would be to have him pinning himself down, with the smouldering stare focusing on him, oh yes that would be great..and he would rake his hands across Madara's front, focusing on the two little nubs.. and Madara would guide his hands and he would..

"Hashirama!"

"Yea?" His voice was thickly glazed with lust as he lost himself in his own imagination, which probably was not the smartest move one could make when faced with the one person who could stand on equal footing with the God of Shinobi, even if he was the God of Shinobi himself.

He was sent flying out of the room, breaking windows in the process by a powerful fist to his right cheek, which finally jerked him out of his musings.

The rest was quite blurry as he scrambled to his feet, with an angry Madara on on his trail. He could not remember what he actually cough out in the dire situation however he must had confessed his feelings or something, seeing he was not left dead, and one mad Uchiha Madara left as one embarrassed Uchiha Madara. Hashirama had forgotten that Madara was not a public person, a love confession in front of curious onlookers must have mortified him, and the tent Hashirama was pitching at his crotch may had exacerbated the situation.

Madara did not speak to him for two weeks after the incident. All affairs that required his attention were brought to Hashirama by his clan members. Hashirama understood his need for some space and so he did not try to pester the other.

Not.

In truth all of his free time were spent stalking Madara, nevertheless Madara had always had his clan members around him, eliminating any chance of privacy. Nonetheless, he was Senju Hashirama, and he was the Hokage, and all the assigning of missions were in his hands; both figuratively and literally.

Naturally after a week of doing mind numbing missions such as cleaning the backyard of an old lady's old house, babysitting Senju and Uchiha children and the likes, Madara burst into the Hokage office, demanding to view the list of missions requests received by the village, effectively ending his silent treatment towards Hashirama.

It took almost half a year and endless pestering by Hashirama until the other finally caved in to give them a chance.

"Just for some time Madara. If you decide that you hate my touches and I, you can end this anytime you want." He remembered pleading with the Uchiha, eyes conveying feelings to colossal to be expressed by words. He may had imagined it but he thought he saw a flicker of an emotion other than anger and the likes in those midnight eyes.

It took a further four months for Madara to allow him to have their first kiss, another two to consummate their relationship. Thus after more than a year of continuous efforts, Hashirama was eventually allowed to refer to both of them as a couple, much to the joy of the whole village, who were initially antagonistic towards the notion, but gave in after seeing how desperate the mighty shinobi was. Well, the whole village except for dear brother Tobirama anyways, not that Hashirama felt the need to gain his approval. The former would rather see him mate with a dung beetle than Madara.

"What's wrong?" He stilled his musings.

Madara raised his head to face Hashirama.

It was after he returned from a long and exhausting mission. Madara had also gone for his mission, returning a day earlier than Hashirama. They were laying in bed, Madara's head resting on Hashirama's lap, fingers tracing random patterns on Hashirama's thigh. Hashirama was lost in his thoughts that he stopped petting Madara's hair, which brought forward the question.

Hahirama resumed with running his fingers through the thick mane. He smiled lovingly at his companion, said companion dropped his head back onto his lap, the tips of his fingers somehow were suddenly more interested in Hahirama's flat abdomen than his thigh .

"I was thinking about us."

"Hn." came the reply. After two years of living together, Hashirama learnt that even though Madara by no means was a man of few words, there would be times when he preferred not to give lengthy answers.

"Have you ever thought about us, Madara? If our meeting was arranged by heavens? If we were lovers or enemies in our past lives? "

The other shrugged.

"I always wonder, if our fates are entwined from the very beginning, if I am destined to fall for you."

He glanced down. Madara seemed to be far more engrossed in the hem of his tunic than himself.

"Madara~" He whined, tugging at the dark strands. "Pay attention to me~~…"

Madara was still in his own world.

"Madara~~."

Long, pale fingers travelled up to his nape, their master pulling himself up until he was eye levels with Hashirama, sitting across his lap. Hashirama stared into the endless abyss that was Madara's gaze. Oh how he was lost in those bottomless onyx eyes. Madara brought his palms to each side of side of Hashirama's face, cupping it. He moved closer to Hashirama, until his forehead touched his. Lips less than inch apart, the latter could feel Madara's hot breath upon his skin.

"Why, I am paying you attention." He whispered , a hint of smirk could be heard in his voice, before Hashirama felt his lips captured by the other's. Hashirama's eyelids dropped. No matter how many times he felt the softness, the other was still more intoxicating the the most potent of drugs he had ever known.

A heartbeat.

He felt the warm lips left him, and the sensation of Madara withdrawing from him. He opened his eyes, running his thumb along Madara's right jaw line. Madara leaned into his touch before pulling him close again.

A light peck, before the hot tongue glided over the slight opening of his mouth, from corner to corner. A playful bite on his lower lip, and the tongue delved itself into his mouth. He allowed Madara to take control, without even attempting to battle for it. Hashirama wrapped one arm around Madara's waist, his other palm cradled Madara's head, pulling him even closer.

It was rare for Madara to initiate any form of contact, much less an intimate one.

Perhaps he should start going for more long missions, Madara seemed to miss him each time he did.

"Too much in fact." Hashirama shuddered as he felt Madara's fingers ran themselves all over his neck, before descending to his collarbones. His mouth soon followed his fingers , and Hashirama let out a moan when the sharp canines bit into his sensitive skin. He brought his hands to Madara's front, parting the Uchiha patterned kimono before pushing them down to allow it to slid of his lover's arms.

It did not matter if he had seen Madara's naked flesh countless times before, it never felt to take his breath away, albeit only his shoulders and a part of his collarbone were visible to Hashirama since the other was still intent on leaving his marks upon Hashirama's skin.

Not that Hashirama minded.

Every part of him that was touched felt on fire.

Every inch of him was jolted awake.

He closed his eyes, savouring the sensation.

Madara pulled back, and although Hahsirama had his eyes shut, he could almost picture Madara, with his face as flushed as one could be.

His lips wet and parted.

His pupils dilated as he stared at Hashirama.

Hashirama opened his eyes. Sure enough, he was met with a pair of wild Sharingan staring at him.

Like a predator stalking its prey.

And he was the prey, helplessly entrapped in the splendour that was his predator.

"Strip, Senju."

Hashirama hastily pulled his tunic above his head, before taking off his pants, allowing them to join Madara's crumpled kimono on the wooden floor. When he raised his face, Madara was on his knees, straddling him, his thighs parted to reveal his family jewel, which was , as Hashirama stared at it, getting stiffer by the second.

Oh how he would love to run his hands all over Madara. He roamed his eyes all over the perfect body, lingering more than a moment around the two perked nubs, before trailing at the taut muscles,before returning to the place just beneath his abdomen.

He could feel his mouth water.

As if understanding his intention, the other traced his front with his fingers, his movements deliberate and teasing.

"Lay back."

"Huh?"

"On your back , Hashirama."

"I cannot touch you then."

"You are not allowed to touch me."

"Why? I want to touch you."

"Just do as I say , Hashirama."

"But Madara-"

"Either you do as I say, or we stop with this."

What the hell, he was already used to Madara running every aspect of his life, he could get used a bossy bedroom Madara as well, he thought as he proceeded to follow the other's instruction.

"Be thankful that I am about to do this."

He watched as Madara licked his own lips before bending down, fingers caressing his hard stomach, lips placing featherlike kisses all over him in random patterns before moving lower just above his crotch, lingering there.

"Madara~" Madara knew that it was close enough to his weak spot, yet the former deliberately avoided the spot, circling it instead. Hashirama never thought , until that particular moment, that he could get any stiffer, however he was proven wrong. With each tease to the sensitive region, he felt himself harden, with sticky liquid starting to drop from his rod.

After a few harrowing moments, Madara finally proceeded south to take Hashirama into his mouth, his palms hesitantly curled around the was taken aback, he had never in his wildest dream imagined that Madara would perform such a, as Madara put it, shameful and degrading act.

Still he concluded that it was best to not say anything, lest the other change his mind, which of course, would result in Hashirama's loss.

Madara had never done that before, and although he was clumsy, the merest feel of the inside of his mouth was enough to make Hashirama almost spill his seeds, which took all of his willpower not to. He gripped at the bedsheets, his knuckles turning white as Madara took himself in, bit by agonising bit, lapping in awkward but adorable, which was a word he would never thought to associate the Uchiha with before, motions.

"Madara.."He moaned. The taste of his lover' name rolling off his tongue intensified the pleasure. He grabbed a fistful of the wild lock, battling the urges to buckle his hips upwards.

Oh, how wonderful the feeling was. It was as though he was elevated to the most resplendent of heavens.

With the angel Madara showering him with his feather like touches.

While both of them are basked in the warmest of light.

As expected, Madara could not take all of him, but it did not matter anyway, as he lost control the moment Madara hollowed his cheeks, releasing into his mouth without warning, accompanied by a loud exclamation of his lover's name.

Madara pulled back immediately, coughing hard.

"Fuck Hashirama, since when are you premature?!" That was rude. If there was anything Hashirama was certain of, apart from his battle prowess and medical skills, it was his stamina.

However pointing that out would not tally with his recent release.

"I'm sorry! It just .. I thought that it felt so good-"

"That was no excuse. Give me a bloody warning next time!"

"So the will be a next time." He cursed his insolent mouth the moment the words escaped his lips.

"Hashirama!"

Hashirama cringed as his lover raised his voice, bracing for the worst.

However Madara did not hit him, nor did he stomp off the room. No, he only proceeded to wipe off most of the pearly liquid off his face, before smirking devilishly.

"Someone needs to be punished, don't you think?" Hashirama merely nodded, too weak so form any word, too enthralled by the sight of Madara's face smeared with his seeds, red lips forming the most beautiful mocking smile, black eyes gleaming with mischief.

Oh, he deactivated his Sharingan.

When the other loomed upon him, his body moving with a rhythm so sensual Hashirama could die, he made up his mind.

Yes, he decided to take on more long missions that particular moment.

…...

He would liken to the first few years of their relationships to a honeymoon . He would relive each memory with affection, with love, just like any man would. Although there was no blushing bride. Although there was no ceremony. Although he knew some villagers would speak ill of their relationship.

Although he was the only one professing his love.

Although Madara would only reply with a 'hn', never telling Hashirama he loved him back.

Even if he felt insecure most of the times.

Even if he had to do his utmost best to ensure Madara's interests in him.

Even when he knew, their relationship was only as strong as Madara's regards in it.

He treasured every moment he spent with Madara; walking around the village, just overseeing the village from the top of the Hokage Rock, or skipping stones for their childhood memories' sake, or waking up next to Madara, or just having the privilege to be referred to as an item with Madara.

He would keep the memories locked in the deepest part of him, so that nothing could touch them.

He would go through them slowly during the long conflicts which succeeded the period.

The hitch in their relationship that came in the form of one Uzumaki Mito.

Hashirama would never forget the day Tobirama brought in the marriage proposal. His marriage proposal.

An alliance with the Uzumakis would certainly benefit the village. They specialised in sealing jutsus, and they have strong chakra.

But it did not interest Hashirama one bit.

"I don't need this Tobirama, I have Madara."

"Anija! You cannot do this! You have a duty to continue the clan's line!" Tobirama slammed his fist upon the hardwood table. His red, albino eyes glared hard. Hashirama could see that he was pissed, probably at him, most likely at his lover.

"How long do you think such thing would last , Anija?! Grow up! You have a village to lead, a clan to guide! How long would you allow a deranged person like him to control you?!"

Hashirama sighed. This was not the first time Tobirama tried to talk him into leaving Madara. What did he brother know? He loved the Uchiha too much to care about something as trivial as an heir, and he knew that frustrated Tobirama.

"Look Tobirama-"

"Unless he suddenly becomes a woman, you cannot hope to have anything out of the relationship! Even if he becomes a woman, would you want a child carried by a devil's spawn?! Just leave him! A slut like him would find somebody else fast enough to spread his legs for."

"Tobirama!" He rarely raised his voice, for he was a man with a mild temper. That being said, he would not sit idle when his lover was being unjustly accused, even if the accuser was of his own blood. "That is enough." His eyes were cold, like the hardest of steels.

For once, Tobirama was wise enough not to enrage him any further. He however refused to back down as he started towards the door.

"This is not over Anija." He glanced over his shoulder before slamming the door shut.

Hashirama cradled his head in his palms. For once he was glad that Madara was away. He could not imagine the chaos that would ensue if the news reach Madara's ears.

Hashirama however had underestimated his younger brother's tenacity.

A week after the proposal was mentioned to him, a red haired lady who went by the name Uzumaki Mito appeared at his office, chaperoned by his stern faced brother.

With a bloody marriage proposal in hand, signed by Senju Tobirama. Agreed upon by Uzumaki Mito's father.

He really should had been more, far more stern with his beloved brother.

He knew he had been had when Tobirama left it to him to see for the lady's comfort. When he tried to rebuff the idea, Tobirama casually reminded him that he was the Hokage. The goddamned Hokage. Of course Tobirama proceeded to drone on with his responsibilities and all, away from the Uzumaki girl's sight of course, thank the the Hokage, he was obliged to find the young lady a decent accommodation, to ensure her safety, kunoichi or not.

Hashirama was merely being the clueless, good natured Hashirama when he offered a place in his clan's compound. Although, as insensitive as he was, he could still see the misunderstanding which might arise from the gesture, nonetheless, he believed that it would not pose too much of a problem since he planned to invalidate the proposal, sending the lady back to her village and ending the problem before Madara returned from his mission. Simple.

Luck, unfortunately, decided to forsake him.

The following night, Madara returned from his mission. For the first time in his life he felt other than excitement in the prospect of the other returning. He sighed when he Madara's hawk brought back his message. He would early by a few days, and Hashirama did not expect him to be back so soon. As he scrambled around his office to make it look presentable (he had always been the messier of the two, with Madara being a perfectionist and all), he noticed the wretched marriage proposal laying out in all it's glory in the open on his desk. He quickly shoved it into one of the drawers, knocking down several books in the process.

The door swung open that exact moment. Bushy hair and tired eyes greeted Hashirama at the door step. The floor creaked when he released his gunbai on top of it.

Uchiha Madara stood tall, his eyes hard and emotionless, scanning the room until he met Hashirama's. Hashirama observed as he lost the cold exterior and broke into a barely noticeable smile with warmth entering his features. For a moment he forgot about the proposal , Tobirama, and Mito, his mind filled with his lover.

"Messy as always I see." He cocked one eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing upon his lips. He sauntered into the room, shutting the door with a quiet motion, his gunbai leaning on the was in the middle of the night. Most of the villagers had retired for the day. Hashirama knew he was being considerate, as the action was very unlike his Madara, who usually slammed everything he could.

Hashirama's eyes widened as Madara plopped onto the Hokage seat. He moved closer towards the table, silently praying that it was not one of those days when Madara became interested in the village's affairs. Not when the agreement from Uzushio is only a drawer away.

"You're quite early." Not that he minded, no, if it had been other occasions he would be beside himself with joy.

"Hmph. You think those Iwa shinobi can stall me more than a week?'

"Tsk tsk. Arrogance would be your undoing Madara."

"It is not arrogance when I am merely stating the facts."

"Exaggerated facts, I must say."

"Oh?"

"You can't even sling rocks properly when you were thirteen."

"Well, what does that have to do with this?"

"Maybe Iwa shinobis can sling rocks better than you do. You know since they are of Iwa(rock)."

"What is with you today?"

"What is with me?"

"You're very unlike your usual self" Madara crossed his arms.

He half sat on the table, palms planted on both of his sides, leaning slightly to his Uchiha partner, his long hair falling off his broad shoulders.

"What am I usually like?"

"You are usually more all over m-" The other cut himself short, and Hashirama noticed the slight pink that was starting to appear on his high cheekbones.

"All over what?" How he loved it when Madara was lost for words. While the latter had no qualms to carry out various erotic actions after almost five years of being together, he was still too shy to admit his needs for affections.

And Hashirama found that particular trait of his as very endearing.

"Nothing." Madara tried to get up, but Hashirama was faster, trapping him between his arms.

"What are you doing Hashirama?"

"What indeed."

"Get off, I am tired. I'll deal with your antics tomorrow."

Hashirama slipped his right hand in Madara's hair, before tilting his face up. Madara still refused to look at him. He rubbed his thumb in an unhurried motion on the other's cheeks, before leaning for a kiss.

Madara caught his hand , stopping him mid way.

" I'm too tired for this now, Hashirama." He now looked straight into Hashirama's eyes.

"Is that why you come straight to my office in the middle of the night, instead of going home?"

" I just wanted to see you!" Hashirama could see that Madara was fuming."Not screw you!"

"But Madara~." It was not as though Hashirama intended to engage in sexual activities with Madara from the very beginning, however a few weeks without the man next to him had thrown all his reasonings out of the window. He knew how lethargic a person would be after a long mission, after all he used to take them at one point as well, but the problems that had been weighing on his minds had mentally worn him out, and for that he decided to indulge in his selfish desires, if Madara would be kind enough to comply that is. Hashirama was aware that despite his cold facade, Madara was a good natured man.

Apparently it was not one of the days when Madara was feeling charitable. Hashirama was pushed away the next moment. Madara stood up. "I am seriously tired, Hashirama. i just wanted to see your face." Hashirama heard him sigh. A cloud of depression hung over Hashirama. Dejected, he moved away from the table, turning his back to Madara.

Hashirama heard him let out even a heavier sigh. He fought the urge to smile.

"Ok, fine, just let me get showered first yeah? We'll continue at home." He felt a bit guilty of taking advantage of the Uchiha's inability to vehemently refuse him, nonetheless, the idea of losing himself in venereal pleasure with his lover quickly swallowed the feeling.

"Sure!" As fast as his depression appeared, it disappeared. He followed the other's figure as he walked towards the door.

"And they call me manipulative." Madara picked his gunbai up, slinging it over his back. "You slave driver." However the soft smile at his lips did not escape Hashirama's notice.

"Madara." He called out.

"Hn?" Madara stilled his hand at the doorknob.

"I love you, you know?" Madara turned towards him. Hashirama gave him the most affectionate smile he could manage. 'I really do, Madara'. His eyes conveyed what may be insufficient to be delivered with words. After all eyes are the windows to one's soul, are they not?

"Hn." And Madara disappeared along with the click of the door.

Hashirama slumped onto his chair. He shut his eyes. Chanting Madara's name in his heart , while he pictured the recently exited man. He fished out Tobirama's proposal from his drawer. As he stared at it, he allowed himself to wonder.

What was he afraid of?

Madara's rage if he knew about Tobirama's bold actions?

Or was it the possible indifference on his part? Which would be the most blatant proof of Madara's absence of love for him?

He returned the proposal to it's place, getting up from his position. As he turned off the lights in preparation to head home, he reached a conclusion.

It would be ideal if some things were left unknown.

The few weeks that followed Madara's return ensued without any incidents. Somehow Hashirama managed to keep Mito's arrival a secret from Madara. If Madara noticed the presence of a rather unusual guest in Senju's compound, he after all frequented the complex as Hashirama sometimes spent his nights at his clan's if he did not return to their shared house, he did not say anything. And for that Hashirama was relieved.

In the hindsight, he should have known that it was the calm before the storm.

It was one cloudy late afternoon, with occasional thunders could be heard, signalling impending heavy rainfalls. Hashirama was completing the last of his paperworks for the day, with Madara by his side supervising his job, interjecting as needed. Madara was dressed in his high collared Uchiha garment, while Hashirama was in his Hokage robe, with his clan's hakama underneath. Both were absorbed in their respective activities when a knock grabbed their attention.

Sure enough, Uzumaki Mito appeared from the crack of the door.

"Hokage-sama?"

If one was observing Hashirama's face during that particular moment, the change in his demeanour would be so obvious, it changed by the second. His tanned skin turned almost as pale as an Uchiha's. His eyes became larger in shock, and he immediately looked at Madara.

Madara appeared unperturbed by the lady's presence, his concentration trained on the same scroll he held. Hasirama shifted his focus to Mito.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

MIto closed the door behind her. Her steps were light, befitting of a kunoichi her status, as she tentatively made her way in to the middle of the room.

"I will have to return to Uzushio tomorrow. I just received some news that there's a small problem that requires my attention." She was very polite in her speech, occasionally meeting Hashirama's eyes as she explained her predicament, while demurely clasping her hands in front of her.

Madara still had not looked up even once from his scroll.

"I see, that is too bad.. We would love for you to stay longer in the village." Hashirama smiled. If she could leave the office without saying anything which would disclose the nature of her visit, he would be able to elude suspicions from Madara with some fabricated truth.

"Yes. I believe I should also inform you that my father would be coming to Konoha to discuss about.." She trailed away, perhaps a tad embarrassed, not that Hashirama cared, he was more worried about a certain ravenette.

"Or I can go to Uzushio, to formally talk about our future association." The further away from Madara, the better.

"Oh no, you are too kind, Hokage-sama. Thank you very much. I'll inform him when I get back. I will be taking my leave now, Hokage-sama, and err.." She glanced to his left.

"Oh, this is Uchiha Madara. He is like the co-founder of the village. I don't believe you have been acquaintanced before." Madara lifted his head, his movement slow and deliberate. He had a strange look in his eyes which Hashirama was not able to decipher.

"Nice to meet you, Madara-sama." Mito bowed, a smile plastered on her face.

"The pleasure's mine. Nice to finally meet you, Uzumaki Mito." Madara drawled sending shivers to Hashirama's spine. The sarcasm. Mito however, perhaps too innocent to understand sarcasm, seemed unaffected any Madara's tone.

"I will be taking my leave now, Hokage-sama, Madara-sama." She bowed again, before exiting the room as quietly as she returned to his seat, turning towards Madara. Surprisingly, the other was looking at him, the strange look had not quite left his eyes.

"So that was Uzumaki Mito." Madara broke the way he placed it finally made sense to Hashirama. How could he be so naive. Of course Madara had known. He was Uchiha Madara, he would have eyes and ears all around the village. He understood then , Madara unusual calmness, and his lack of enquiry.

"How long have you known?"

"About what?"

"About Mito?"

"So she is just Mito now?"

"Shinobi do not refer one another with last names. So how long have you known?"

"Since your brother presented the idea to you."

Hashirama was astonished. That long?

"Were you not away during that time?"

"Really Hashirama?"

" Sorry." Oh the wonders of messenger hawks and pigeons and spies.

Madara huffed, returning to his scroll, however it was evident that his focus was no longer there, to Hashirama at least. He made his way to Madara's desk, stopping right in front of it, facing his inamorato.

"Look, this was all Tobirama's idea."

"When did you plan on telling me, Hashirama?"

"Well.. umm, I uhh, you see.." He stuttered. What was he supposed to say? After all he was not sure on whether Madara was upset about Mito or not.

"Well, whatever. It has nothing to do with me anyway." Madara rolled his scroll, closing it. He stood up. "I am going home, Hashirama, I have to go to Iwa again tomorrow, remember?" He swerved past Hashirma, however before he managed to move away, Hashirama caught his left wrist.

"What do you mean it has nothing to do with you?" His voice was low, as an unfamiliar feeling crept up his heart. Something that resembled hurt.

"Hm? I meant exactly what I said." Madara looked genuinely confused. Hashirama stared into his eyes, looking for any traces of..he was unsure of what he was looking for.

Was he reading too much into Madara's words?

Was Madara joking?

Was Madara pulling his leg?

Was that his attempt to hide his jealousy?

"Hashirama! It hurts." Madara's voice snapped him back to reality. He noticed then that the Uchiha's hand was almost white wrist up. He loosened his grip.

"Is that so." He let go of Madara's hand, turning away from him towards his table. Even though he was not looking at Madara, he knew that the other man's gaze trailed after him.

"Is everything alright, Hashirama?"

He nodded.

"I'll be stopping by eateries on my way back. Do you want anything?" He heard the sound of Madara nearing the door. How could Madara be so calm? Normally lovers would be out of their minds if their partners are presented with the prospect of marrying other people. Was it because he did not love Hashirama at all? Just as hat he had been fearing, Madara did not reciprocate his feelings. It was not mutual. He was the only one deluding himself in the notion that maybe, Madara, too had romantic sentiments towards him, and he was only being shy by not displaying it.

Oh how he was a fool, trapped in his own deception.

He shook his head. He did not trust himself enough to form a verbal answer without betraying his emotions. He turned towards Madara, giving him the most natural smile he could manage. Madara tilted his head to the right, shrugging before exiting the room.

After the door clicked, Hashirama slumped upon his chair. He ran his fingers through his hair. Get a grip. It was not as though he did not know that Madara was not in love with him. So why was Madara in their relationship then? Was it to satisfy his sexual desires? Was that it? Because Hashirama was ever willing and ready to comply with his urges? Was that his only worth in Madara's eyes? Or was it because Madara just wanted him to stop with his pestering? Because he was unashamedly professing his love for the other, and Madara only wanted him to stop? How could he be so blind? He had been imposing his feelings upon Madara.

Was Madara only tolerating him then?

Had Madara been disgusted by his touches then?

No, that cannot be.. Madara assuredly enjoyed every moment making love with him. After all, there had been a few instances when Madara himself initiated such encounters.

Unless if he was just playing along with Hashirama.

What if he was imagining someone else as he did?

His recently frequent trips to Iwa, what if he had a secret lover?

Oh his thoughts were starting to resemble those of a young maiden's.

He pulled hard at his hair, the roots beginning to hurt as he did. He sighed. He was the Hokage. What was he doing, mulling over his love matters like a sixteen year old who would still be wet behind the ears?

When Hashirama reached home, the sun had long since set. He slid the front door open, carefully taking off his shoes. He did not want to disturb Madara who would probably lost in dreamland by then.

"You're quite late."

Perhaps he should start sharpening his senses like Tobirama since Madara was able to sneak up on him.

"There was a lot of paperworks to do." Truthfully, he did not want to see Marara. Yet. Not when his thoughts were in jumbles, conjuring up implausible situations, which somehow involved Madara and a nameless Iwa shinobi.

"Bullshit, there were barely a few of them left when I left the office."

"Tobirama brought a truckload more after you left."

Tobirama was particularly too busy with the village's defence on that day to return with paperworks , but neither seemed inclined to point out the fact.

"Whatever, are you hungry?"

Whatever. It seemed to be in Madara's vocabulary more often recently. Hashirama sighed for the umph-teenth time. Had Madara lost his interest in their relationship at last?

"I'm not." His stomach growled.

"I don't know why you are so stubborn." He heard the shuffling of Madara's feet towards the kitchen. "I'm heating some food up. There is also some inarizushi if you are too hungry."

Hashirama bored his stare upon Madara's disappearing figure. He followed after Madara into the kitchen, plopping down on the tatami mat. He rested one elbow on the chabudai, while another one reached for an inarizushi. The sweet taste of aburage brought back nostalgic memories. Like how hard he studied how to turn a simple dish that was inarizushi into a delicacy. Had it been that long since he presented his Madara with his homemade inarizushi? It felt like it was just yesterday that he relentlessly courted Madara. A wry smile graced him as he recalled how much effort he put to make Madara see that they were meant to be together.

Ah, if only he had known.

"It's done." A bowl of steaming mushroom soup was placed in front of him, followed after by a bowl of rice and some side dishes. Hahsirama was hungry. That he knew. But what did people say about a broken heart? That it fills you with despair, to the point it nauseates?

Broken heart?

Was his heart broken?

"Hashirama?" Madara looked at him inquiringly, his eyes alternating between the meal and Hashirama's face. "Are you alright? Is something the matter?"

Hashirama shook his head. He was Senju Hashirama, where had all his optimism gone to? He picked up his chopsticks, dipping them into his rice, before bringing the sticky grains to his mouth, forcing himself to swallow.

Later that night, when he ran his hands all over Madara, he allowed himself to forget. As he felt the other arch beneath him, as he muffled the other's moan with deep kisses, as he felt Madara's warmth around him, as Madara's eyes roam themselves all over him, as the other lock his legs around his waist, permitting him to bury himself deep in him, he closed his eyes, lulling himself in a false sense of security. Live the present, for the future is uncertain. However, when he collapsed on top of Madara in the afterglow, as he felt the other's breathing evened out, a wave of fear crashed upon him.

Just for how much longer can he enjoy the comfort of his other half?Their relationship was like a time bomb, when would it go off? He pulled Madara into his arms,as he forced the thoughts out of him, forcing himself to forget.

Still sleep eluded him.

"You look like shit." Of course he did, he did not sleep even for a second the night before.

It was the morning after. Madara was doing a last minute check on his equipments and documents at their doorstep. Hashirama watched as he tied his wild hair into a high ponytail. He was going to miss Madara. Sometimes, he resented the fact that He was the Hokage and Madara had to complete all their diplomatic affairs. He leaned upon the wall, taking in the sight of Madara slinging his gunbai, picking up his rucksack. Just Madara.

He thought he could go on with just looking at Madara.

For eternity.

But eternity would only last until Madara changed his mind.

"Is something wrong?" Madara looked upon him, with, what , concern , in his eyes? Was Madara concerned about him? Hashirama forced the most laid-back grin he could manage. "Nothing, sweetheart." He knew that Madara was uncomfortable with such endearing terms, but he wanted to refer to him as such. Because who knows for how long he would have the privilege. "Have a safe trip." If they were a normal, married couple, that would be the time for both of them to lean in for a kiss. Or maybe just a hug. Anything for them to remember the other by when they were apart.

However they were Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara. Thus, after giving Hashirama an unconvinced look, Madara slid the door close, disappearing from his sight.

Outside, rain began to fall.

….

Alcohol is the root of all evil.

Hashirma had long since forgotten from whom he heard it from. After all he rarely drank. He was the Hokage. Before that he was the leader of the Senju. Before that he was too young. In addition, alcohol was one of the three prohibitions for shinobi, was it not?

Nevertheless, eleven days into Madara's absence, he found himself in a local pub, drowning himself in the pleasure of alcohol. It was unbeknownst to Tobirama of course, since if he did he would surely have dragged Hashirama home. But Tobirama was busy with his own affairs, and Hashirama took the full advantage of that.

It was unfitting of a Hokage to be seen like he was, but he could not care less.

In the retrospect, he should have known that he was overthinking, and the pictures he made in his head were preposterous. But he did not know then, and so he chose to drink his sorrow, one bottle at a time.

"Hokage-sama, I don't think you should be doing this." The bartender tentatively tried to persuade him to stop. It was probably, one? or two? in the morning. Hashirama stopped caring after his third bottle. "You're going to have a massive hangover, Hokage-sama."

"Whatever." He slurred. "Huh, whatever you say?! How could you not care!" He brought the cup back to his lips. He, however had run out of sake.

"You! Another bottle!" He slammed some cash onto the counter top.

"Uhm, Hokage-sama I really think you should stop."

"Are you going to deny me as well?! Yeah, the whole world doesn't love me! " He started wailing, to the point it attracted a few glances. The bartender quickly placed a bottle of sake in front of him.

This time Hashirama did not bother to use his cup. Instead he took a swig from the bottle.

How could Madara!

He thought the Uchihas are supposed to feel strong love.

He even awakened his sharingan because of Hashirama!

Who cares about Madara now!

He took another sip, this time small. As he stared at the porcelain bottle, loneliness started to well up inside him.

How could Madara..

When Hashirama loved him so much..

How could he not love Hashirama..

If Madara was the one in his place, Hashirama would have gone nuts.

Well, Hashirama loved Madara after all.

He took another sip, slamming the bottle so hard it cracked.

Well who cares about Madara now!

He and his Iwa lover can go to hell!

Hashirama did not know how much sake he drank that night, but in the morning he woke up with a feeling like a mountain dropped onto his head. Placing one hand on his head, he willed himself to gather his healing chakra, alleviating the after effects of alcohol little by little. After a few minutes, the headache, at least ,significantly lessened. Being talented in medical ninjutsu was really convenient.

The first thing that he noticed was the dull curtain. Next, it was the old bedside lampshade. After that. his state of undress. Finally the unfamiliar bed. It struck Hashirama hard.

He was not in his room. And judging by the sparse furniture, he was not in Tobirama's bedroom or guest room either.

What happened last night?

His shinobi senses now fully alert, he concluded that he was in a room of one of the lodgings around Konoha. The fact did not bother him much, apart from the fact that there was a sleeping figure, well nestled into the bedsheets next to him.

From the outline, there was no way that it would be a man, much less Madara.

Hashirama's heart begin to pound. Oh no.. He had always been a terrible drunk.. the last time he was drunk, he made Madara do all sorts of embarrassing sexual actions, and remembered none of them, which prompted a silent treatment for almost a month.

As if on cue, the figure stirred, revealing a dishevelled, and very much naked Uzumaki Mito.

"Morning."

Hashirama was stunned. He felt a big lump in his throat. No. No-no. No no no no nonononononononono! This could not be happening.

Did he sleep with a person other than Madara?

"Morning, Mito." His voice was small, and he had to fight the urge to throw out. Perhaps from the alcohol, most likely from self-disgust. "May I ask why you're here?"

"Oh Hashirama-sama, did you forget? I arrived in Konoha yesterday morning." Mito was surprisingly calm. "Don't worry, we are engaged anyway. Ah, but my father would probably want to hasten the marriage." Engaged? Marriage? Since when was he engaged to the woman? Hasten the marriage? What did she mean? Marriage to whom?

It could not be..to Hashirama?

Oh no…

Hashirama hastily got out of bed. He picked up his discarded clothes on the floor before dressing in a speed he did not think he was capable of. Before exiting the room, he glanced at Mito.

"I'm sorry but I seem to have too much to drink last night. My apologies, Mito but I would appreciate if you don't tell a soul about what happened."

Mito laughed. Hashirama was dumbfounded. Why was she laughing? Was there any humour that he did not manage to find in the situation? " Don't worry Hashirama-sama, I don't telltale. And besides, it was not my first time either.. so don't fret too much." Hashirama-sama? Why was she not referring to him as Hokage-sama? What if this reached Madara's ears? Wasn't he going to be suspicious?

Madara..

Oh no.. He had his spies all over the village.. What if one of them saw Hashirama with Mito last night?

He was not going to care, was he?

He felt a pang of familiar hurt, but for the first time he decided not to wallow in self pity. He was about to dash out of the room, while being under Henge no Jutsu in order to avoid suspicion, when he realised how unreal it felt. After all the whole village was aware of the essence of his associations with Madara. Just one rumour, and he did not even dare to imagine the consequences.

No wonder alcohol was one of the three prohibitions for shinobi. He jumped from one building to another towards his shared home with Madara. After slamming the door of their bedroom shut, he fell onto his knees.

What happened?

Did he cheat on Madara?

It was only a drunk encounter, but still..

Did he betray Madara?

He, who vowed undying love for the Uchiha?

He, who Madara cared, to a certain extent at least, for?

"Hashirama?"

He honestly did not know whether he was hallucinating or not. Madara was supposed to be in Iwa… at least for another two or three days. Was Hashirama's mind playing tricks on him?But the voice sounded too real for him no had imagined it.

He turned towards the bedroom entrance.

A tired Marada greeted him. When did he come into the house? Was he becoming more stealth, or had Hashirama's keen censoring skills dulled with the peace that they enjoyed?

"Why are you in that form? Why are you not at the office?" Hashirama noticed then that Madara's breathing was ragged. There were speckles of dirts all over his face and armour. His hair was even more unruly than usual. His eye bags were more pronounced. His lips were chapped. He looked as though he was swallowed by a typhoon on his way back.

Hashirama released his Henge, returning to his usual form. The last piece of puzzle finally was in place. How could he been so blind? He stared at Madara, his voice lost of its strength.

Every time Madara was assigned long missions, international or domestic, he was sure to return earlier than expected, with appearances so dishevelled it was very unlike the Uchiha patriarch. He would always appear more tired. However, he would always look for Hahirama first, before even tending to his other needs. Even though he knew, Hashirama would demand affections from him. How was Hashirama so stupid? Madara must had sped up each time, perhaps with rest so minimal the rest of his team members could not follow. Madara must had missed him, as much as he missed Madara, each time the other went away.

Madara, who lost his most beloved brother at the hand of Hashirama's younger brother, but still accepted Hashirama's feelings.

Madara who allowed Hashirama to be the leader, even though Hashirama knew it was killing him.

Madara, who endured insults for being in a relationship considered abnormal in Konoha.

Madara who accepted the facts that he would never have any heir he could call his own by being with Hashirama.

Weren't all of them the proofs which Hashirama had been looking for to confirm Madara's love for him?

For the first time since he came of age, Hashirama cried. Not the quiet sobs one would would expect from a man of his age and status, but streaming tears accompanied by loud wails. As he cupped his face with his palms, shoulder shaking so badly his whole body trembled, he felt a pair of very warm arms encircling themselves around him, before he was gently rocked back and forth in very comforting motions by the shorter male.

"Shh, its ok. Its ok." Madara did not ask him why, nor did he consider his tears as a sign of weakness. Although his understanding should had made Hashirama calm down, it instead bombarded him with boulders of guilt. How could he been so greedy? The only thing Madara did not do was to proclaim his love, verbally, but no, Haahshirama had to desire all that was Madara. To the extent his insecurities caused him to betray his beloved. For the first time in his life, Hashirama admitted that he was a fool indeed. Trapped in his own imaginations, until he failed to see reality.

Madara, Madara…What would you do if you know what I have done? Would you leave me? I don't want to lose you… Madara..Tell me Madara!

However, being the coward he was, he could not muster the courage to tell Madara all which was haunting him. Instead he cried hard, as Madara slipped his fingers in his his long hair while Hashirama clutched at his armour as hard as he could.

...

 **Thank you very much for reading this! I would be most happy if you could leave a review. Thank you very much again.:)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you very much for all the lovely reviews! I really appreciate it. Here is chapter 2. All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.**

….

Those who lived during Uchiha Madara's time would say that he was a very cold man. After all, he was back in battle soon after his adored brother's unfortunate passing. What more, he even stole his brother eyes to quench his thirst for power. Izuna's grave was still fresh when Madara started to use his newly acquired ability.

How heartless of Madara.

He was , in addition, manipulative, ensnaring Senju Hashirama in his webs of lies and deceit. Poor Hokage-sama, deceived by Madara's sweet words and false promises.

Cruel.

Tyrant.

Those who knew him, such as members of the Uchiha would refer to him as , nah, more or less an ok man. He was an excellent leader, and the Uchiha prospered under his rule. They even managed to stand on equal footing with the Senju, forming the first Shinobi village. Yes, he was ruthless, but nobody could say he was a bad leader.

Cunning.

Powerful.

Those who were intimate with him would tell you he was a immensely misunderstood man. No, he was not even a man. In him, there had always been this boy, who was scarred by loss and despair. His acts were merely the confused actions by a boy forced to mature far too early, coerced to abandon his emotions in order for others to thrive.

Izuna would call him the most affectionate of all brothers.

Hashirama would call him the most compassionate of all people to had ever walked upon earth, since he shared his dream.

Madara himself had never cared enough to analyse himself. Nor did he care about what others thought of him. However, if he had to describe himself, he would say he was a determined person. He would give his all, no matter what endeavour he was in. He would try his hardest to achieve what he believed in.

When he and Hashirama believed in peace, he risked his father's wrath to meet Hashirama.

When he believed in destruction, he tried his best to destroy his adversaries.

Yes, Uchiha Madara was a person who was very determined, among many other qualities he possessed.

Nevertheless, there was never one person, not even his own closest confidante who associated Madara with romance.

Thus, when he finally returned Hashirama's sentiments, there was an uproar in Konoha. Every single person, shinobi and non shinobi alike would gossip about their newly formed relationship.

"What does Hokage-sama see in that demon?"

"Can you believe it, two, powerful clan leaders…"

"Uchiha Madara… What is he planning now?"

Madara was aware of disdainful stares which followed him wherever he went. It did not matter that they knew Hashirama was the one who pursued him, not he other way around, no. To them Hashirama was god, and Madara was the devil. Not that Madara minded, anyway. The only effective way to control people, no matter what Hashirama might say, was through fear.

Somebody needed to shoulder all the hatred.

He would not be Uchiha Madara if each and every snide remark brought him down.

The only approval he needed was his own and maybe, a tiny, weeny, little bit of Hashirama's as well.

That overly optimistic, cheerful and irritating man?

He was his lover was he not?

What prompted him to accept Hashirama again?

Madara might had huffed and puffed each time Hashirama showed his affections initially, but he found himself missing the taller man each time he was away. With each coming day Hashirama's arguments began to seem more convincing. He found himself longing for the other's presence more and more, until he finally came to a conclusion.

He was in love with Hashirama.

On a second thought, maybe not love.. perhaps just he was just fond, very fond of his bright, sometimes annoyingly so, presence.

Yeah that must had been it.

But occasionally Madara would ponder alone on why the sight of Hashirama's face lighting up when he agreed to Hashirama's idea of pursuing a romantic relationship with him made his heart warm all over.

Although, he would forcefully dismiss the notion each time. Having a sharp and over analysing mind was not always peachy.

But he was sure that he was willing to work hard to make the relationship work. It would not be easy he knew, but he had enough attraction towards Hashirama to try. Two years into the relationship, and he informed his clan's elders he meant to never get married in his life. Ever. Of course they were rebuffed by the idea at first, but they came term with it soon enough. Although it may had caused him to lose favour, not that it bothered him.

He had found another person, other than Izuna, who became the meaning for his life.

As he sprawled next to Hashirama one night, as he combed his fingers through the brown silky hair he promised himself.

He would cherish that person next to him, until the day he breathed his last.

He remembered smiling to himself as Hashirama stirred in his sleep, perhaps his senses alerted by Madara's intense stare. He pulled Hashirama close to him, whispering the three words he was too chicken to say out loud when the other was awake.

He was a coward.

But even a coward could feel threatened.

"I am going to propose a marriage between Anija and Uzumaki Mito of Uzushio."

"And you are telling me because?" He raised one eyebrow at Tobirama.

"I would appreciate if you don't meddle with this." The look in Tobirama's eyes was of pure mistrust. "You have dragged his name to mud long enough." He conveniently left out the fact that it was his brother who relentlessly pursued Madara like a deranged person but Madara was not a man so petty to point out his deliberate omission.

"Hmph." How absurd.

Hashirama would not even consider the proposal, did Tobirama not know? He was very much in love with Madara. Madara was very sure of the fact, as much as he was sure that the sun would rise from east and set in the west, thank you very much for the unnecessary concern.

Right?

So why was he back in Konoha a few days early, when he received a message that Uzumaki Mito was sighted in the village?

Well, he was done with his mission in any case, and he had always been fond of speeding up. Time after all was an enemy. One second wasted, and you will never get it back.

Uh-huh, the reasons above would be more than sufficient to justify his immediate departure and increased pace to himself.

Mito was not a threat, he decided. Sure, she was not ugly, but not necessarily stunning either. And what was with her obviously forced demureness? And she was wearing too much make-up. Overly feminine.

Hmph. Hashirama would not get much fun in life if he chose her over Madara.

Wait, why was he comparing himself with Mito?

He stared at the red haired woman, observing her reaction upon hearing his name. The slight twitch at the corner of her left eye might had been missed by another person, but definitely not Madara.

She knew who he was to Hashirama,

"Nice to finally meet you." Hashirama's mine.

He watched as she tried her best to hide her uncertainty.

"Uzumaki Mito." Back off, woman.

Heh, she was doing a good job, since Hashirama did not notice her discomfort.

Hashirama…on his way back to their house, he tried to find any reason for the hurt he saw in Hashirama's eyes. He was himself in the morning, however he adopted the sullen look after Mito left. Was Hashirama that upset that Mito was leaving? How dare he! What about the hurt then? Madara was the one who was supposed to be offended! His lover was offered a bride, a female to boot! What right did Hashirama have to feel slighted?

Nah, he must had had imagined it.

He was overthinking the matter, he was sure.

Hashirama returned to his passionate self when he made love to Madara that night. The tips fingers which grazed Madara's flushed skin felt the same to him, he loved Madara with the same raw, pure masculine vigour he always did. His kisses were still feverish, leaving Madara panting for more, his rhythm fully synchronised with Madara's.

It was a night a little bit too cold for the ravenette's liking, and he was departing the following morning, thus Madara returned his drive with the same intensity. He remembered leaving his fingerprints all over the span of Hashirama's broad back. He bit hard, until a familiar metallic taste registered on his tongue. His fingernails were red from scratching perhaps a wee bit more than necessary. But he felt elated, looking at Hashirama, bleeding and bruised from his little 'ministrations.'

Somehow he felt the need to leave his marks all over his lover.

He was not going to die in the mission was he? His abnormal impulse was not a death flag was it?

Truly he was over thinking. He was Uchiha Madara. The only man who would have the ability to pose any harm towards him was at that moment too busy pounding hard inside him, hitting his sweet spot over and over. As he felt Hashirama's arms encircling him after both of them collapsed from satisfied exhaustion, he deduced that everything was alright.

The following morning however, Hashirama was odd again. He was staring at Madara, a lot more than he usually would, but refused to give a solid answer when asked. Something was definitely different with Hashirama. The thought bothered him eminently that he found himself sprinting back to Konoha after the talk with Iwa representatives had ended. Well, the talk consisted of Madara spewing a few threats and the Iwa shinobis cowering in fear at any rate, therefore there was not much left to discuss after he was done.

The sight that greeted him in his bedroom was even more puzzling. What was Hashirama doing, transforming into a lady, kneeling in the middle of the room?

"Hashirama?"

Hshirama's face was paler than he had ever seen in his life, and that was saying a lot, since he had known him since they were young boys. He watched as flickers of mixed emotions went through Hashirama's eyes, before the latter burst into tears.

Tears?

Senju Hashirama was crying?

Was the end of the world near? Madara dropped his gunbai and luggage, before hurrying to Hashirama's side. He gathered the man into his arms. Madara was very, very confused. What happened?

However, untactful as he was, even he knew it was best to let whatever that was pass before probing further. So he stroke Hashirama's hair while he whispered sweet, at least by his standards, nothings into his ears.

He did not know how many hours had passed until Hashirama finally calmed down. However his arms were almost numb from being in the same position for so long by the time Hashirama stopped trembling. He rested his chin on top of Hashirma's head, his fingers rubbing his back in a calming, circular motions.

He was glad that he had younger brothers. At least he knew how to calm someone down.

"Are you better now?" He felt the other nod under him. It was one of the few, very rare moments when Uchiha Madara felt truly relieved. He would not know what else he had to do had Hashirama not cease with his tears.

"Did Tobirama die?" He stared at Hashirama's tear streaked face.

Tobirama's death would not warrant for tears, unless they were joyful tears in Madara's opinion.

Hashirama shook his head, his gaze averted from Madara.

Well, Tobirama being alive was certainly a misfortune to many, Madara mainly, but to Hashirama he was his brother. It was not Tobirama.

Madara was out of ideas. It was unlike him to be so personal and caring anyhow, thus he decided to not try getting Hashirama to answer him. Perhaps Hashirama was facing a mid life crisis, that must be it. He stood up, extending one hand to Hashirama.

"If you are feeling unwell, why don't you get a rest. I'm sure no one is expecting you to show up at office by now." Hashirama grabbed his palm, pulling Madara into a bone crushing hug. The plates of his armour dug into Hashirama's skin, he was sure they would leave ugly bruises, but Hashirama seemed to not have noticed. Madara returned his hug, but with a slightly less force. He took in Hashirama's scent. Almost two weeks without his smell, Madara had longed for it all the time he was away.

The clasp of his armour unfastened , and the red metal fell with with a clink. He felt calloused fingers making their way under his shirt, tracing his spine in a very slow motion.

"Hashirama?" He tried to pull away, but was barricaded between Hashirama's steely arms. Hashiramsa still refused to look at him, his face buried at the crook of Madara's neck. Madara glanced down. Hashirama was being awfully quiet, it made him feel vexingly self conscious. He felt Hashirama inhale deeply before he loosened his hold. Before he could walk away, Madara caught his arm.

Hashirama tried to wrestle his arm back, but Madara kept his grip strong. Not that Hashirama was really trying. Somehow his half hearted attempt annoyed Madara more.

"Is everything really alright Hashirama?"

Hashirama stiffened for a moment before nodding mechanically. He tried to wrench his hand again, but Madara decided to jerk him closer.

"Okay, now don't shit around. What. Is. Wrong." Hashirama's oddity was making him anxious. Something must had happened.

Hashirama was silent.

Hashirama did not try to jump him.

Hashirama was not smiling.

Hashirama was not Hashirama.

He did not know how to deal with a quiet, miserable Hashirama. Such person was foreign to him. He resented that there was something that could make Hashirama act such way. Something other than him.

Hashirama was his. Only he could affect Hashirama.

He surprised himself with such possessiveness. He had never felt such urge towards anything, much less anyone. However, the fact remained that he was irked because Hashirama was distracted in his presence.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was so small Madara might had missed it had the night not been so eerily quiet. Madara became even much more confused. Did Hashirama think that Madara was mad at him? Of course he was not mad at Hashirama. He may had been annoyed at him but not mad. Madara cupped both sides of Hashirama's face with his palms, trying to appear as appeased as he could. He secured his hold firmly, forcing Hashirama to look at him.

The sclera was red from all those crying, his face appeared flushed while the area around his eyes was swollen. As Madara stared into his brown eyes he could see hints of indescribable emotions in Hashirama's gaze.

"I am not angry at you, Hashirama." His voice was calm. Madara tried to soothe..whatever that was bothering Hashirama. "Only, when I ask questions, I expect answers." Honest answers. We are lovers are we not? Let me share your burden.

Hashirama cowered a little from his words.

"I am sorry." His voice was as feeble as his first apology. Madara knew then that no amount of persuasion would grant him what he wanted. Hoping to be more considerate he decided to let the topic drop.

"Whatever. I am hungry, can you cook something? I need to shower." He dropped his hands from Hashirama's face. His gunbai and bag were strewn on the floor. Madara stretched himself before picking them up. The floor was dirty from his gunbai, he would need to clean it afterwards, he noted. He started towards their equipment room however Hashirama's voice stopped him.

"Madara.." He sounded desperate, his voice strained, his jugular veins visible as he grit his teeth. Madara sighed. He raised his brows encouraging Hashirama to go on.

"I love you. You know that right?" His voice was low, he averted his eyes again. Madara gave Hashirama the warmest smile he could manage. "I know, Hashirama." He tilted his head sideways, turning away from Hahshirama towards the equipment room.

Later that night, when Hashirama was deeply asleep Madara would caress his lover's cheeks. He would scrutinise every corner of Hashirama's face, drinking in the perfection that was him. He would silently sigh, his breath causing a few of the dark hair strands to be softly blown away.

And finally, he would whisper his words of endearment for Hashirama.

I am sorry, Hashirama, I am a coward. You know I love you as well, right?

….

From another person's perspective, Hashirama may had appeared to have returned to his usual self the next morning. He was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast by the time Madara woke up. The sun had not fully risen, and chirping of birds of many kinds could be heard. Madara swung his legs to the sides of the bed. He combed his fingers through his hair in an effort to reduce its fuzziness. He walked towards the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. The tap water felt cold to his face, jolting him fully awake. He turned the tap off, grabbing his face towel, patting his face dry. Closing the bathroom door, he headed towards their kitchen. The sizzling sound and familiar aroma of cooking eggs and steaming rice intruded his senses.

"We're having rice today?"

Hahsirama turned towards him. In his hand was a ladle, his other hand holding a bowl.

"I made eggs and miso soup. Why don't you go and have a seat over there, it will be ready soon." Madara headed to the chabudai, sitting down in seiza position. Even though he had been told to relax by Hashirama multiple times before, he still found it hard to discard his habits. Even as they went through the meal, chatting over menial matters, subtly avoiding Hashirama's out of place behaviour, he maintained his position despite the well accustomed painful numbness which started to prickle at his legs. He was strong after all. Such pain barely even registered at his mind. Besides it was a form of endurance training.

How very Uchiha Madara.

They walked to Hashirama's office side by side, in a very relaxed pace. Summer was nearing the end of its visit, and the occasional chilly zephyr of early autumn was a bit too cold for Madara's liking. He was, after all, a member of the clan with a strong affinity towards fire. He unconsciously inched closer towards Hashirama, hoping to leech off some of his body heat. He folded his arms against his chest, his palms rubbing his biceps in repetitive motions.

"Are you cold?" Hashirama had stopped walking. The taller man was looking at him, concern evident in his coffee eyes. Madara shrugged. He was not about to admit his weakness, not even to his own lover.

Hashirama chuckled. His first genuine expression of joy since the day before, in Madara's opinion. "Madara it is barely twenty five degrees! Truly, you Uchihas are.." He could not finish his sentence before he burst out into a full, hearty laughter. The sun had risen, its rays fell over the sharp features of Hashirama , painting a picture so dazzling it wholly captivated Madara. Despite the nagging annoyance he felt at being mocked, he could not stop an embarrassed grin from stretching.

"Oh shut up! At least my body will not become mouldy because it is made of wood." He increased his pace, leaving Hashirama behind. Hashirama fell into steps with him, his voice had not lost traces of his laughter as he playfully muttered apology towards Madara.

"Oh, come on Uchiha-sama, your humble servant Hashirama did not mean to offend you. You're such a bore." Madara almost broke into laughter but he held himself in check. It would not do if he was seen in public laughing.

"Uchiha-sama~~! Uchiha-sama~~~!"

A cloud of depression fell over Hashirama.

"Uchiha-sama doesn't want to see humble Hashirama anymore?"

"Fine! Argh! You are so embarrassing!" A gust of wind passed through them and Madara instinctively hugged himself, realising the implications of his actions a wee bit too late. Hashirama was hysterics. He clutched his middle hard. After more than ten days without Hashirama, Madara found it extremely hard to maintain his angry facade. He chuckled, joining in with him, making fun of his own inability to withstand cold.

"You know you could have asked me to just hug you right?" He tried to loop his arms around Madara's waist, but Madara expertly evaded his attempt. It was not the first time anyway. How many times must he tell Hashirama not to do that? He hated PDA, and if it was not for the oath he made to keep the village safe, he would have Amaterasu-ed all the couples who could not seem to understand his resentment.

"People will see, Hashirama." He growled. Sometimes he would wonder why his emotions were such a roller coaster, but he was a powerful shinobi so who cares?

Uchihas were always full of love in any case, so why bother?

"So if we go to places where people can't see, it would be fine?"

"Huh?"

Hashirama jerked his left hand, dragging him towards somewhere that was definitely not his Hokage office. It was certainly a peculiar sight, with Hokage-sama and Madara-sama hopping from one building to another, hand in hand. Madara was of course shouting curses for Hashirama to let him go, while Hashirama was merrily laughing.

Madara was out of breath from all his shoutings by the time they reached their destination.

"The river?"

"Yeah." Hashirama's grin was dazzling, Madara noted not for the first time. "It has been a long time since we last came here, don't you think?" He plopped on the ground, his arms supporting his back, his legs stretched in front of him.

"Aren't you supposed to be in office today?" Madara crossed his arms. Hashirama had skipped his work the day before, and who knew for how many days before Madara returned. Madara could not believe him. He had a village to govern!

"It is fine to take a break once in a while isn't it?" Hashirama had that look in his eyes again as he watched the flow of the river. His movements were almost absent minded, as he pick up a small stone, slinging it across all the way to the other bank. Madara felt himself relax. It would not harm to postpone his works for a day.

"Tobirama would nag at you, you know." But he sat down next to Hashirama, his legs crossed. He tilted his face to the sky, watching intently as a flock of birds flew away. He closed his eyes. The sun rays were blinding him, but its warmth felt nice against his skin.

"Screw Tobirama." The corners of his mouth lifted up at Hashirama's choice of words. He turned towards him. Hashirama was still lost in his thoughts as he unconsciously played with the pebbles underneath his palms. His gaze was still unfocused.

"Hashirama."

Hashirama looked at him.

Madara stared right into him.

"You know I'm here right?"

Hashirama nodded. He shuffled towards Madara, wrapping his left arm around him, placing Madara's head on top of his shoulder.

"I know." But he still sounded distant to Madara. If it had been any other times, Madara would had pressed Hashirama until he obtained his , at that moment, being in a very close proximity to Hashirama, Madara had another pressing need. Last night, since Hashirama was acting so queer, and due to his exhaustion, both of them fell asleep without anything, ahem, intimate.

Madara wound both of his arms around Hashirama's shoulders, craning his neck to invite Hashirama into a kiss. Hashirama met him halfway. The kiss was brief but it was enough to bring Madara into the mood. His movements became more aggressive. He placed his palms on either sides of Hashirama's fore head, before tugging at the strands hard, tilting his head backwards, baring the tanned neck to him.

How trusting of Hashirama. He could kill him then, and there was nothing the other could do about it. The river had been long since considered their private place, the villages avoiding it out of respect, or was it disgust?, towards them. He trailed the tip of his fore finger down his Adam's apple all the way to the place where the two of his collarbones met.

When he pushed Hashirama down, he heard the other's playful voice.

"Tobirama would nag at me tomorrow."

Madara smirked.

"Screw Tobirama." He could feel the rumble of Hashirama's chest when he chuckled.

…...

There were two things that Madara decided during the following two months that ensued. One, something was definitely going on with Hashirama. Although he acted like everything was normal, there would be occasions where he would sneak glances at Madara when he thought Madara was not looking. Now Madara was used to Hashirama's secretly looking at him, but what was out of ordinary was that Hashirama would avert his eyes instead of meeting his with a broad smile like he usually would.

Hashirama had his head in the clouds even more often. Sometimes he would look so fearful in his thoughts, other times he would look dejected. But the most bizarre thing was that he seemed to be keeping secrets from Madara. And the Uchiha patriarch was not pleased with the fact at all.

Two, it was Uzumaki Mito. Madara was surprised to see her in the village when he took a stroll a few days after he returned from Iwa. When he enquired Hashirama, the other just nodded without providing a concrete response for the reason of her being in the village. Madara did not have any reason to be so antagonistic towards her presence other than he was bloody jealous of her. For no reason really. It was not as though Hashirama was interested in her, but for all that it was worth Madara hated her guts.

Thus it came as no surprise when he was taken aback when Mito approached him one evening. He was on his way back, tired and was in dire need of a warm bath after he finished sparring with his clansmen.

"Whatever it is make it quick." He did not even try to mask his strong dislike for the Uzumaki, crossing his arms, his gaze thrown in all sorts of directions apart from her face.

"Look, Madara-sama, I know that Hashirama-sama and Madara-sama are not exactly associated with each other in a purely platonic manner." Big deal. Who doesn't know that? She seemed unsure whether to continue or not, not that it was in Madara's concern.

After a few seconds of silence, Madara started to walk away, but was stopped when Mito called after him.

Mito looked uncomfortable as she formulated her sentences. "I am sure Madara-sama knows who I am to Hashirama-sama." Other than a shameless wench? No he did not know, nor was he interested in knowing. "What I want to tell you is that.." She hesitated.

"I am willing to share Hashirama-sama with you, if it means maintaining the peace." Her fists were clenched on both of her sides, and he could see that it took all of her strength to maintain eye contact with him. She had guts, he would give her that. Although he would say her courage was greatly misplaced.

Very, very greatly misplaced.

The whole village knew not to say anything about his 'ownership' of Hashirama. Even Tobirama was tactful enough to subtly ask for his permission before proposing a marriage for Hashirama.

And there she was, a kunoichi from a different village. An outsider.

What did she say?

Share?

She was willing to share?

She was willing?

 _She_ was?

Oh how presumptuous of her. How arrogant! How brazen!

How impertinent.

How dare she!

Hahshirama was not hers.

He was _his_.

He would be the one calling the shots.

He would decide if he would share Hashirama with her, not the other way round.

He would.

Never another.

Not that he would ever share Hashirama. Never ever in his life.

His elbow was at Mito's neck, the latter slammed into the nearest tree as he stabbed the other's eyes with his piercing , furious stare before she even had the opportunity to comprehend the situation.

"Don't you, ever, utter such nonsense in front of me again." His voice dripped with venom, his eyes ice cold. "End of conversation."

If it was not for his pledge with Hashirama not to harm anyone who did not pose threats towards him, he would have relieved the woman of her life that moment.

He retracted his arm. Mito fell on the ground with a fit of cough. He did not bother sparing Mito another glance before moving away from the spot, not caring with the curious onlookers. As if his image could sink any lower.

When Hashirama arrived home that late evening, he did not wait until he reached their bedroom to jump at Hashirama, forcing himself onto him. Madara rarely was the one who did the giving, he was more often on the receiving end. It was a thrill to know that somebody was strong enough to dominate him, although that was also usually done at his pace. However his encounter with Mito made him feel that she was insinuating that he was the woman in their relationship.

Which was undeniably preposterous. They were both men. They both had equal rights over each other. Not that a woman would have less right over her man than he over her.

No. But Madara was not a woman.

When he was finally done with Hashirama, the other was bleeding from his entrance, with bloody bite marks and scratches all over him. Hashirama however was wise enough to not ask what was wrong. Instead he silently healed his wounds, while Madara sat next to him, not letting Hashirama out of his sight.

He knew Hashirama knew that it was his own way of apologising. He felt guilty looking at Hashirama's well hidden wince here and there.

He loved Hashirama after all.

Later he pulled Hashirama into a gentle embrace, not caring that the wooden floor was stained with blood and cum. He rested his chin over the top of Hashirama's shoulder, feeling Hashirama's silky stands occasionally rubbing against his cheeks. He tightened his hold, feeling the appeasing effect of the other relaxing.

Still, he did not say a word.

Still, Hashirama kept quiet.

They were both lost in their own worlds. Madara thoughtlessly combed his fingers through Hashirama's hair that he was very fond of.

Hashirama traced the veins of his free arm, his act inattentive.

It would be perfect if they could stay that way forever, Madara thought.

But he knew some wishes were meant to remain wishes. Some dreams were not meant to come true. Some hope would remain impossible.

Some people were just not meant to be together.

In the hind sight, Madara would be able to pinpoint the exact moment everything turned for the worse.

Calamity came that night in the form of one Senju Tobirama.

His face was as grim as ever, Madara noted, however the distaste was mutual so he did not complain.

"Anija." He did not bother to acknowledge Madara, but it was not the first time he did not, and sure as hell would not be the last time either.

But Madara was the bigger man, so he ignored Tobirama's blatant disrespect in his own house.

"I have something to talk about." Madara noticed that he was glancing at his directions more than a few times, as if he was displeased with Madara's presence. "It's about Mito."

Madara stood up that instance. He shot both Hashirama and Tobirama his infamous Uchiha glare before exiting the room. Mito…Mito…Mito! Was there not another name he could have mentioned?! Madara headed to the public training ground. On nights as such, it was best to let his Majestic Flame Destroyer loose. His mood was elevated the moment his seventh, or was it eighth?, flames were put out by the lake water. It was not hard to continuously breathing out fire when he imagined a certain red haired woman's and a certain albino's faces on the water surface.

He sat down on the hard ground. It was a starless night, he could only see darkness when he tilted his face upwards. Madara sighed.

What was he doing, throwing tantrums like a mindless child?

After some time, he decided to head back. Even though he was already a man fully grown, there we certain things which had still remained.

Ripples of water had always had a calming effect on him.

Madara walked back home instead of hopping. It was conciliating to walk alone with only the moonlight as his companion. It was quite a long walk from the training ground .His shared house with Hashirama was quite isolated from the rest of the villagers'.

"Privacy." Hashirama said with a not so innocent smirk on his face.

The night was cooler than the day, with autumn breeze greeting him now and then. He stuck both of his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunched to trap as much heat as he could. His hair provided for a wonderful warmth, enwrapping him in its wild, thick mane. He inhaled deeply. He could smell the scent of falling leaves which brought a nostalgic feeling. Izuna had always loved autumn. When they were very young, before they were allowed to enter battlefields, he would make piles of dried leaves before coercing Madara to join him jumping on them from the top of trees. His brother would be delighted with Konoha, he knew that. Even though Izuna told him not to trust the Senju, he believed that he could make Izuna see that Hashirama was different.

Yes, if only Izuna was still around.

Madara would not feel so alone like he did. Of course there was Hashirama, but Hashirama was not an Uchiha. In the end only an Uchiha can fully understand another Uchiha.

He cursed Tobirama under his breath. Tobirama took away Izuna, he would not permit him to take Hashirama as well. Him and that red haired, boring woman. Like come on, who fashions her hair into two buns?

Spiky, unruly long hair was the way to go.

Madara hummed with vain satisfaction as he neared the house. The lights were still on. He rolled his eyes. Tobirama might still be around. But Madara was a matured person, so he could handle being in the presence of a person he… let's say immensely disliked. However as he went through the entrance, he noticed that it was peculiarly quiet. That was strange. Even if Tobirama had gone home, Hashirama would normally greet him whenever he came back. Madara was suddenly dowsed with worry. Something could not had happened to Hashirama, could it? He dashed towards all the places he thought Hashirama could be at.

Hashirama was seated at the middle of their living room, his head hung low, his legs crossed. The coffee strands that were his hair curtained the sides of his face obstructing Madara from looking at his expression. Madara breathed a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing, sitting like that? Has your brother gone home?"He walked towards him.

"Hashirama?" When Hashirama finally titled his face upwards, he had a look on his face Madara could not quite put his finger to. He stared right into Madara, his gaze apologetic. His face was calm, so serene it scared Madara. When at last smiled, his smile was enigmatic, and perhaps with a hint of lethargy.

He out stretched his arms, pulling Madara onto his lap in a fierce hug. Madara could feel the bumps of Hashirama's ribcage pushing against him. He was even more befuddled.

"I love you, Madara." His voice was the same deep, soothing Hashirama's he knew, but somehow it felt different. There was something Hashirama was trying to tell him, of that he was certain, but what? He tried to disentangle his self but Hashirama refused to budge. Instead, he was pulled deeper into his embrace. Madara gave up. He decide to play along with Hashirama. He buried his face to the spot where Hashirama's neck met his shoulder, his nose touching the familiar skin. His arms crept up Hashirama's back, feeling the ridges of the latter's spine. He felt the tension leaving Hashirama's body.

The was just something about hugs that would be good for health, he remembered the fact from.. somewhere.

"Are you alright?" The number of times he had asked Hashirama the question in the span of the past couple of months may be more than he had ever done so during the years of their relationship. Hashirama had always been alright. Ha was always so bubbly, so bright it blinded Madara more often than not. But the recent Hashirama was mysterious.

"I am, Madara." He sighed, tickling Madara's right ear with his breath. "I am." This time his voice sounded like a pained whisper. Madara shrugged, almost knocking Hahirama's chin in the process. He lifted his head. There was no use thinking about things he would not get answers for, he decided. Hashirama would tell him sooner or later, he knew. As if Hashirama could keep secrets from him for very long. The Hokage was too deeply in love with him. He kissed the top of Hashirama's straight nose. "Let's call it a night, Hashirama."

His answers came sooner, a lot sooner than he expected. The following day, he was greeted with a jovial Uzumaki Mito when he entered the Hokage office. Hashirama, who was seated behind his table, refused to look at Madara, his gaze trained to his right, hip lower lip bitten hard between his teeth. So hard, Madara could see the white of his tanned skin. The crease between his brows were visible. He looked different.

He look tormented.

And somehow, at the back of his mind Madara knew it had to do with the overly happy Mito.

"My father is coming tomorrow, Madara-sama." She bowed, a gesture that should had meant respect, but it looked mocking to Madara. "Forgive me if I seem too happy." She went on with scripted pleasantries, but he could not care less. His focus was still on Hashirama, who by then had met his stare, his eyes soulless.

"…for the wedding." That particular word of hers grabbed Madara's attention instantly. He turned towards Mito, his movement so sudden it stopped the woman in her tracks.

"What did you say?" He was impressed with the calm in his voice. Mito looked at him for a brief second before proceeding to explain.

"Most of my family members would be able to travel here, but not my elder sister. She has a baby coming. Perhaps she would not be able to make it for the wedding." Madara nodded. He almost snorted. Who was the poor guy who had to marry Mito? Could it be Tobirama? Well would they not make a fine pair. One controlling, son of a bitch brother complex albino and a red haired, vain kunoichi.

He could see Mito's relief. "You are not against this, Madara-sama?" Madara almost shrugged, but he decided not to. It would have been unbecoming to seem so unprofessional. Instead he just ignored her. Not that she minded. She soon excused herself, humming as she went. He turned towards Hashirama.

"How did you get Tobirama to agree?"

"It was his idea in the first place." Hashirama sounded distant, but Madara allowed it to slide. He imagined he would be upset as well if Izuna were to get married. Although he doubted that he would behave like Hashirama. "Are you really agreeable to this?"

What a possessive brother. He must had been looking for any opposition he could find. What did Madara care about Tobirama's future spouse?

"It has nothing to do with me anyway."

He watched as Hashirama rested his elbows on the desk, his strong chin placed on top of his crossed fingers. Hashirama had a sad smile playing upon his lips. In his eyes, Madara could see flashes of hurt.

"Is that the extent of how much I mean to you?"

Madara could not comprehend how Hashirama's worth to him had the slightest involvement with Tobirama's impending nuptial. He tilted his head to the left, his expression of great confusion.

"What does that have to do with this?"

"It has everything to do with this."

"I don't get your point."

"You never do."

"What is that supposed to mean?" He growled, his voice laced with building anger.

Hashirama sighed. "Its ok, I understand. Look, lets just drop the subject."

Now there were many things which could irk the Uchiha. One of them was being left hanging. He covered the distance between them in a few long strides. He slammed both of his palms upon the hard wooden desk, hearing the sound of cracks forming on the surface. Not that he cared.

"Oh no, we are not going to! I have had enough Hashirama!" His right thumb was on a side of Hashirama's face, his other four fingers digging into his other jaw line. He roughly tilted his face so Hashirama could not evade his eyes. He could see that Hashirama was startled. He brought his own face down, until he was eye levels with Hashirama. "Don't you dare look fucking away!" He was snarling, he knew that. But he was at the end of his patience, and no one could ever say that Uchiha Madara was a patient person. He hated not being able to figure out Hashirama. As much as he would refuse to admit, he knew the oddity had something to do with Mito.

And that bugged him.

Madara was scared, even if he kept telling himself he was not.

What if Hashirama decided that he preferred a stable home, with a wife and kids over Madara? Sure, Hashirama initiated their relationship, but Madara had come to being accustomed to having the tanned man waiting for him each time he returned. He was already used to having him shower himself with his undying was already used to missing Hashirama when he was away. It had become natural for him to call Hashirama his home.

Madara had come to love Hashirama, very, very much. So much he could never find the words to describe it in.

And it made him euphoric to know that he was capable of loving.

But it scared him.

Because, as much as he tried to convince himself that Hashirama was his, he knew the latter was not, and Madara disliked not having complete control.

Hashirama was far too deeply rooted in his heart that it would kill him if he was wrenched out.

As he held Hashirama in his powerful grip, such was what he tried to convey despite his harsh words. Hashirama held his gaze, his eyes unblinking. Madara knew he could activate his Sharingan, and he would gain instant access to Hashirama's mind. But he did not, as a show of trust. And both of them were well aware of the fact.

" Do you even love me, Madara?" When Hashirama croaked his words, Madara was full of disbelief. How did their conversation came to that?

"I am the one with questions, here Hashirama."

"Just answer me, Madara." He was pleading, his voice trembling. Madara softened his grip. He took in a deep breath. Truly he was becoming soft. Just one plead from Hashirama, and his anger dissipated, despite his hanging question.

"Is it not obvious, Hashirama?" Madara was one who was shy with verbal affections, Hashirama knew that, Madara was sure.

"It is even more so now, seeing your reaction." Hahshirama's fingers crept up Madara's, prying his fingers away from his face. Madara dropped his hand to his side.

"We need to talk, Hashirama."

"There is nothing left to talk about, Madara."

"I give up. I don't understand." Madara raised both of his hands, a sign of defeat. "You keep talking in riddles, enlighten me. "

"It is alright, I promised you that you could end this whenever you want in the first place."

End? End what? "I believe I told you to stop beating around the bush, Hashirama."

"How can you be okay with the that matter with Mito, if we are on the same page, Madara?"

"Why should I concern myself, Uchiha Madara, with matters as trivial as Tobirama's marriage?!" He had raised his voiced he knew, but talking with Hashirama was exasperating. The man was not making much sense, brooding over incomprehensible affairs.

"Where does Tobirama fit in all these?"

"Are you not upset with Mito for taking your brother away?

"Since when is Mito taking my brother?"

"Is she not marrying Tobirama?"

"Of course she is not. Where did you even get the idea?"

Silence filled the air. Madara was not liking the direction their conversation was heading towards. Uzumaki Mito was getting married, and definitely to somebody from Konoha, since her father was making the trip. Hashirama was definitely involved in this somehow, judging from his weird behaviour. His constantly depressed state. His refusal to share with Madara. Mito's joy. It suddenly hit Madara.

"She is marrying you." His voice was barely above a whisper. As absurd as the idea sounded, and as much as he wanted Hashirama to deny it, Hashirama's averted gaze confirmed his suspicions. Madara was stunned. It was a situation he was utterly unprepared for.

 _"_ _You are not against this, Madara-sama?"_ So that was why Mito asked him the question.

What?

 _"_ _Are you really agreeable to this?"_ Was Hashirama asking for his permission?

How?

He looked up to Hashirama, incredulity evident in his eyes.

Why?

Did Hashirama not love him?

"Why did you accept it Hashirama? Is it Tobirama? That bastard! I will talk to him! " He was going to pummel Tobirama, really , really badly, until he bleed from every inch of his body. How dare he! He dashed towards the door before his wrist was jerked hard. The hand that gripped his was shaking.

"It is not Tobirama." Hashirama's eyes were downcast. "It was my decision."

Madara wrestled his hand away. "How dare you!" He knew Hashirama must had been under pressure from his elders but how dare he not consult with Madara first! He knew a man with a great sense of responsibilities like Hashirama would be easily manipulated. But how could Hashirama say it was his decision. As though he decided to pick Mito over Madara.

Hashirama fell onto his knees. He clutched at the fabric of Madara's clothing. "Forgive me, Madara. Forgive me! Forgive me, Madara! " He was shaking Madara in his attempt to apologise.

"I will talk to your elders as well. If I could knock some sense into my clan's, I can do the same to yours ." He sighed. Madara pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated complicated things. "Come on, on your feet. It is undignified to act like this." His tone was soft, as if he was speaking to an upset child.

Hashirama was silent. His expression was full of guilt. He opened his mouth before closing it again. Madara chose not to say anything. He knew if he intervened, Hashirama would lose..whatever it was that prompted him to speak.

"It is no use, even if you go to them." Hashirama lifted his head, meeting Madara with teary eyes. "I slept with Mito, Madara! I have to take responsibility!" He proceeded with incoherent sobs which resembled apologies, but Madara no longer paid any attention.

Hashirama had to be pulling his leg.

It was as though he was struck by thunder, while simultaneously had his heart pierced with the sharpest of kusarigama. His legs wobbled before giving in to gravity. Madara stared at his crying lover, lost of every ounce of strength in his body.

Crying?

Why was he crying?

Oh right, because he slept with Mito.

Madara had never felt more pain than when the thought finally fully set in his mind. Hashirama had slept with Mito. A woman. A kunoichi. A person from another village.

A person who was not Madara.

Did he betray Madara then?

When did it happen?

Why had he not known of the matter?

His Uchiha spies would have known he was sure of that. Why did none of them tell him?

Were they all laughing at him, behind his back?

Oh how he must had looked like a fool.

Hashirama was wailing at his shoulders , his nails digging into the skin of his shoulder blades, his body shaking from powerful sobs. Normally, his tears would had made Madara soothe him but not that time.

Why was he crying again?

Oh right.

Uzumaki Mito.

He pushed Hashirama away, standing up that instant. Hashirama was taken aback by his sudden action, but at that moment Madara could not care less. It was suffocating to be in the same room with Hashirama, with overflowing emotions threatening to spill out of him. Madara felt nauseated. He rushed out of the office, out of the building not caring where his legs took him. All that he knew he needed to get away.

As he jumped from one tree branch to another, with each step he took, he could hear the sound of his heart crumbling into pieces little by little.

It hurt.

He found it hard to breathe.

He stopped when he was sure that he was far away enough, howling his frustrations to the blue, cloudless sky, while permitting himself to come term with the fact that his heart was broken.

…

When he returned home, the moon was already out. Their house was brightly lit. An anxious and fidgety Hashirama greeted him at the living room. He looked uncertain, but with more composure than he had in the morning. Madara did not spare him a glance before heading towards the kitchen to find some water.

"Madara.." He had never hated any sound more than Hashirama's voice apologetically calling his name that night. He ignored the other as he tried to initiate a conversation with him. When HAshirama reached for his hand, he automatically evaded, as though he was disgusted by him. Madara was burning with rage as he glared at Hashirama.

"Don't. Touch. Me." It was hurting him to see Hashirama's dejected face, his shoulders hunched with disappointment. But it was killing Madara just by looking at Hahshirama. Funny hows single fact could change the way a person is perceived. He loved Hashirama, he knew that. Perhaps he would never ever fall out love with the brunette for as long as he had life in his body.

But his attachment was destructive.

"Madara, please just listen to me." How selfish of Hashirama . How cruel of him. Madara decided to walk away. He did not want to hear anything from Hashirama. He refused to.

Each word would only deepen his wound.

"Madara, I love you." He stopped walking, turning slowly towards Hashirama. Love? After he betrayed Madara? After he decided to marry another? How dare he! How dare he spout lies again! Did he think that Madara was a person so easily deceived? His movements were menacing as he stalked towards Hashirama.

For the first time in years, not for sparring, not out of anger, not for sexual gratification, but from the desire to purely hurt, Madara allowed his fist to hit Hashirama.

Let him have a taste of Madara's ache.

…..

 **Thank you very much for reading this. Do drop a review if you have the time, thank you.**


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